


Raising a Nation

by Anneliza



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Childhood, Family, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneliza/pseuds/Anneliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is worried about France. He hasn't heard from the nation in a long time so he goes to check on him but he never expected to find this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

England knocked on the thick mahogany door to France's large, opulent manor; he hadn't heard from the other nation in a few weeks and was getting slightly worried. Normally he'd get half a dozen text messages a day and at least three calls a week but he had received none of that in so long he thought the other might be seriously injured or possibly already dead.

Stamping his numb feet in the snow in an attempt to get feeling back in them, he called out, "Francis!" in an annoyed tone. He had come all this way to check on him, the least he could do was let him in. When he didn't get an answer and knocked again. "Francis, open the door! I know you're in there!" He tried to keep a nervous tone out of his voice but was failing. Still no one answered and snowflakes started to fall around him, encouraging him to seek warmth and shelter. "Fine. I'm coming in." Grasping the knob, he found it turned easily so he let himself into the home which seemed strange; France always made sure to lock his doors.

Inside was eerily quiet and judging by the amount of dust on everything nothing seemed to have been touched in days, possibly even weeks. It was also nearly as cold indoors as it was outside the home and he found himself pulling his coat tighter around his body. The whole situation was starting to unsettle him, making him wish he had never come in the first place but he felt a strong need to keep looking for his fellow nation.

Once he finished examining the first floor, finding nothing that could point him in the right direction, he turned his attention to the second floor.

The second floor seemed as empty as the first until he headed toward the wing containing France's bedroom. A soft crying reached his ears, making him pause momentarily. Very rarely had he seen France cry so something definitely had to be wrong with the man.

Following the sound, he hurried to find the source. As he rounded a corner he saw a child probably about seven or eight at the end of a hall. The child was sitting up against a wall, hugging their knees, and crying into his or her lap.

Confusion flooded England's head at the sight of the child. What was this child doing here? Did France have a child? Why was this child here and France not? How long had this child been here?

Another heart wrenching sob broke through his thoughts and his paternal instincts washed over him, causing him to hurry over to the child. As he approached he noticed the child was only wearing a large dress shirt and was clearly shivering in the near frozen air; its skin had a slight blue tinge to it.

Instantly he pulled his heavy coat off and draped it over the child's small shoulders, ignoring the instant rush of chill himself. Kneeling next to the strange child, he quietly asked, _"Where is your father?"_ in French. He chose to speak in the foreign tongue because if this truly was France's child he doubted he or she would know much English if any.

_"I-I don't know,"_ the child replied with a small whimper, still in French.

_"How long has he been gone? How long have you been alone?"_ England was starting to get very concerned; a child this young shouldn't be left alone. He was also starting to notice that the child was male from the pitch of his voice. Even though he had yet to go through puberty, there was still enough difference for him to realize this child was not female.

_"A-A while…"_

_"Why are you in the hallway?"_

_"I-I was sleeping in th-there…"_ He pointed at the closest door which England knew led to France's bedroom. _"A-And I fell a-and hurt my l-leg…"_ Gently adjusting, he moved so that England could see the large black bruise on his shin which was surrounded by dried blood. _"I-I wanted t-to get some f-food but it h-hurt too much t-to go any m-more…"_

_"When was the last time you ate?"_ England asked, worry continually increasing for the small boy who seemed abandoned.

_"A-A couple days a-ago…"_

_"What is your name?"_

_"F-François _.._."_ the child said as he finally raised his head to look England in the eyes to reveal bright, innocent blue eyes he saw for the first time centuries ago.

And suddenly everything clicked. The reason France was missing, the sudden appearance of this mysterious child, why he was wearing a shirt that was clearly too big for him, this child, for whatever reason,  _was_  France.

_"Nice to meet you, François. I know your father and it seems like he's going to be gone for a while so I'm going to take care of you until he gets back, alright?"_

Francis nodded.

_"Y-Yes, Mister…?"_

_"Arthur. You can call me Arthur. Now, first things first, we're going to get you bathed and on your way with me to my home."_ He helped Francis to his feet, careful of his injury, and into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. _"I'm going to start the water then go to find you something to wear. Call me when the water gets to here, okay?"_ He indicated a spot on the side of the tub with his hand and Francis nodded again. _"Stay here, wash your leg carefully, and I'll be back soon."_ Quickly turning on the taps to a warm temperature, he let the tub slowly begin to fill before handing the boy a washcloth and leaving him alone in the room. The only place he could think of to find clothes Francis would fit into at his current size would be in the attic so headed that way.

France's attic turned out to be much more cluttered than England's, most likely due to his longer history and somewhat eclectic nature; he always kept clothes he thought might come back into style someday along with many other strange things. Hidden behind a large, chained trunk that seemed strange to him, he found a promising looking box marked, 'Mathieu's clothes' next to a box labeled, '900's clothes'.

He grabbed both, curious as to which Francis would prefer and fit in better, and started to open them as a call from downstairs caught his attention. Carrying them back to the bedroom, he placed them on the desk for the boy to choose from in a moment. He stepped back into the bathroom and turned the taps off before taking the boy's leg and carefully inspecting the gash, deeming it clean.

_"François,"_ he started, straightening up again. _"Come up with me so you can find something to wear after your bath."_ The boy nodded and followed him into the bedroom and looked through the clothes once England opened them for him. He picked out a forest green shirt, tan pants, and a pair of bloomers; England decided they needed to go shopping once they were settled back at his home. _"Okay, you have towels and soaps in the bathroom already. Can you bathe yourself or do you need help?"_ Francis shook his head. _"Alright. Take your clothes and I'll wait out here in case you need anything."_

Gathering his choices, Francis walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So England seems to have found out why France has fallen off the radar but now the question is why is he a child? Hang around to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

About half an hour later the door opened and a much cleaner Francis stepped out, dressed in the new clothes, still wearing Arthur's coat over them, and hair drying around his shoulders. His skin had lost the blue tinge and the boy no longer shook so much so Arthur was relieved.

_"Do you feel better?"_ he asked softly.

_"Yes."_

__

__

_"Good. Now come with me and we'll get you something to eat."_ He walked slowly so that Francis could limp next to him without hurting himself further. The kitchen was just as cold as the rest of the house but England was more than happy to shiver and lose feeling in his upper body if it meant that Francis could feel warm for the first time in however long it had been. Unfortunately, not only was the kitchen freezing, it was also bare; every cupboard was either empty or being used to store utensils and other cooking supplies. _"Where were you getting food?"_ he asked the boy, confused.

_"Over there."_ He pointed at the wall that divided the kitchen from the dining room.

Walking into the other room, he took a step back. The remains of a large feast that had probably been for a party the Frenchman had hosted before he turned into this child littered the table. There wasn't much left so he guessed that Francis had been picking from it which helped it along. Dishes were everywhere and a wine glass was lying on its side with a drop of red liquid still inside.

From the state of the remaining food, Arthur could guess that this party had been weeks ago. The Francis he knew, the adult one not this strange child, would never leave his home in such a state. He would have cleaned up all the food at least before going off to bed. If these dishes were still here, and somewhat laden with food, then whatever happened to Francis had taken place either during the party or shortly thereafter.

He was brought back to himself when he noticed Francis reaching for a plate.

_"No!"_ The boy jumped and pulled his hand back at the outburst. _"That food isn't safe to eat! It could make you very sick!"_ Francis put his head down in shame and Arthur instantly felt horrible. He knelt down to be eye level with him and softly said, _"I'm sorry, Francis. I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just worried about your health."_ Gently putting his hands on the boy's shoulders, he softened his gaze. _"I will get you something better to eat on our way, okay?"_

_"Where are we going?"_ Francis asked quietly.

_"I'm going to bring you to my home so I can take care of you until your dad comes back but I live kind of far away so we'll have to pack anything you want to bring with you."_

__

__

_"Where do you live?"_

_"In England."_

Francis tilted his head to the side, blue eyes full of confusion.

_"England?"_ he said slowly, sounding out each letter.

The older blond nodded.

_"Yes. It's a short trip from here."_ He looked at his watch. _"But we need to leave soon or we won't make it tonight."_ Picking up the boy to save time and prevent him from walking on his injured leg, he noticed that he was much lighter than he appeared. _'Probably from the malnutrition,'_ he thought. _'That can be fixed though.'_

When they reached the bedroom he found that since he was holding Francis he didn't have a free hand to open the door. If he had been a couple hundred years younger he would have managed just fine but it had been a long time since he had been watching a child. Too long, he decided. He liked kids and he wanted his own but he didn't have anyone to raise one with. He could probably do it alone just fine but he would prefer to have someone special that could parent with him.

"Francis, could you open the door?" he asked in English, not noticing that he had switched. The boy just stared at him, confused. He thought he recognized his name but it sounded strange. "This isn't funny, Francis. Open the door or I will have to put you down." Still the boy didn't move. "I know you know how to open a door, Francis. You've done it before. I saw you." When Francis continued to simply stare at him blankly, he sighed in frustration and put him on the ground so he could open the door for both of them."There," he stated, looking pointedly at Francis. "How hard was that?"

_"What?"_

"The door, Francis, the-" He stopped when he realized what he was saying and what language he was saying in it. _"I'm sorry, Francis,"_ he whispered, once again speaking the boy's language. _"I forgot."_

_"Forgot?"_

__

__

"I forgot you don't speak my language."

_'I forgot you refused to learn my language but forced me to learn yours,'_ he thought with a scowl.

_"It's the 21st century, idiot!" He had yelled at him once. "English is a universal language! Learn it already!"_

_What he didn't know is that the Frenchman had gone home and tried desperately to learn the language but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't say the words right, couldn't spell them, or even understand what they meant. It was like he had been cursed to never understand his ally's tongue. Even Mandarin he grasped with relative ease but English eluded him._

_'That might be a problem,'_ he realized. _'I'm taking him to a country that almost exclusively speaks English and he knows none.'_ He shrugged it off. _'He'll learn.'_

He led the boy into the room and instructed him to pick out any clothes he liked while he himself went to find one of the Frenchman's many suitcases.

Francis had a hard time picking out clothes; he wanted to take all of them but he had a feeling that wasn't going to be allowed.

He had finally decided on a few pairs of pants, some shirts, and a few colorful tunics when Arthur returned with a bag.

_"All finished up?"_ he asked as he set the bag down. Francis nodded. _"Good. I'll pack it for you and then we'll leave."_

The boy watched him pull a phone out of his pocket and dialed the number for a local cab company to pick them up as he packed the few outfits into the small suitcase. When he was finished, he turned to Francis and asked if he was ready to go.

_"Yes,"_ he replied nervously, giving a quick last look around the room.

Seeing his unease, Arthur kindly held his hand out for the boy to take which he did instantly.

_"Come on, Francis. The cab is waiting for us."_

He gently led the boy out of the house and down the steps to the car waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The next chapter will be about Arthur taking Francis to London and getting him settled in so look forward to that!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

The two sat quietly in the taxi as it drove them from a short way outside of Paris to Gare du Nord so they could catch the last train from the French capital to its English counterpart. It took them about half an hour which was spent in silence. When they arrived Arthur paid the driver and retrieved the suitcase with Francis’ clothes in it and the briefcase he had brought with him, carrying both in one hand while holding Francis’ small hand in his other. He quickly purchases two tickets on the Eurostar and hurried to catch the train.  


Once they were seated and the suitcase safely stowed, Francis across from him with his back to their destination, Arthur pulled a map out of his briefcase and set it on the table between them.  


_“Look, Francis,”_ he whispered, not wanting to disturb any of the other occupants. _“We’re here.”_ He pointed to Paris on the map. _“And we’re going to take the train to here.”_ He moved his hand to point at London.”  


The boy studied the map for a few minutes before asking, _“What’s the big blue stuff between them?”_  


_“Water.”_  


Francis’ eyes widened and he looked at Arthur in surprise.  


_“How is the train going to cross the water?”  
_

__

__

_“We’re going to go under it,”_ he replied simply. _“There’s a tunnel.”_  


_“You can do that?”_ Francis cried, excitement radiating off him and jumping up in his seat.  


_“Yes. Modern technology is a marvel,”_ Arthur answered, gently pushing Francis back down.  


While Francis entertained himself with the map, the English nation took advantage of the remaining cell service and called his assistant. He asked her to arrange for a car to be waiting at the station in a few hours.  


“Did you figure out why France has been so distant lately?” she inquired.  


“Yes. Call a meeting with Cameron and Hollande. Do whatever you have to do to make sure they attend. This is extremely important.”  


“Is France alright? Does he need help?  


Arthur watched the boy in the seat across from him who was fascinated with the passing scenery and babbling happily in French.  


“He…” He passed, unsure of what to say. Technically France was mostly fine, he was just a child for some reason. “He needs help so I’m bringing him to London with me. We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.”  


“Alright.”  


“Keep this meeting confidential. No one outside of the four of us need to know it happened."  


“I promise you I will make this happen.”  


“Thank you.”  


He hung up and a few minutes afterward they entered the tunnel.  


* * *  


During the dark ride Francis kept himself occupied by asking questions about Europe and England and by playing with the map. His energy seemed endless and it drained Arthur of his own. When they finally made it to London Arthur picked up the two bags, took Francis’ hand again, and led him out of the station to where his driver was waiting. The man took the bags from him and opened the door for them. Arthur and Francis slipped into the back while the driver put their bags in the boot before getting into his seat and starting the car.  


With a sigh Arthur leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes while Francis stared out the window. A couple minutes later he felt something pressing against his shoulder. Looking over he saw the boy was leaning against him fast asleep. A small smile graced the British nation’s face. The boy had finally tired himself out and was quietly snoozing next to him. He gently shifted the child so he could lay down and use his leg as a pillow.  


They arrived at Arthur’s home about twenty minutes later and Francis was still asleep. Rather than wake him, he carefully got out of the car and scooped him into his arms. The driver followed with the bags and opened the door for him, setting the bags just inside the home. With his hands free, the driver continued to follow him through the house, opening doors for him until they reached a small bedroom.  


Arthur laid Francis on the bed and tucked him in, whispering his thanks to the other man. The driver took this as his cue to leave and did so. Arthur doing the same. Once the front door had been locked and the alarm activated, Arthur changed and went to bed.  


* * *  


The next morning Arthur woke up at 7:30, still rather tired after his late night the night before, and slipped out of bed. He walked down the hall before stopping in front of the door to the room Francis had slept in. Knocking quietly he called the boy’s name only to hear a quiet whimper in return.  


Curious, he opened the door to find an empty room. Taking a look around he found the room to mostly be in order besides an unmade bed and the door to the wardrobe ajar. He opened the doors to see Francis sitting on the ground with a frightened expression.  


_“Francis,”_ he started softly, kneeling down to be on his level. _“Are you alright?”_ He kept his tone smoothly to keep himself from further startling the boy.  


_“W-Where am I?”_ Francis whispered, blue eyes large from his fear.  


_“You’re in my home in England, remember? I found you yesterday and brought you here while your father is away?”_  


The boy nodded slowly, still uneasy.  


_“I-I thought it was a dream…I was alone for so long that I thought no one would ever come…”_  


Arthur felt his heart twinge at the obvious pain in the child’s voice. No one should be alone and feel like they would always be that way.  


_“It was real. I’m sorry if I scared you. I’ll be here for you. Are you going to be alright?”  
_

__

_“Y-Yes.”_  


_“Good. Would you come out of there and get dressed? We have to go somewhere today.”_  


After Francis quietly agreed Arthur helped him out of the wardrobe and once he was sure Francis would be alright, left him to dress. _‘Stupid,’_ he thought on his way back to his room. _‘Stupid. Of course Francis would be afraid. He woke up in an unfamiliar place all alone. I should have thought of that.’_ He continued to silently berate himself while he pulled on a gray pinstripe suit and a matching gray tie, brushed his teeth and hair, and leave the room.  


Francis was waiting in the hall, still in the clothes from the day before.  


_“Why aren’t you dressed?”_  


The boy looked at his feet.  


_“I don’t know where my clothes are,”_ he replied quietly.  


Arthur mentally chided himself for forgetting that he had left Francis’ suitcase by the front door.  


_“I’ll get them for you. While you wait go into the bathroom and brush your teeth. There are spare toothbrushes under the sink along with toothpaste.”_  


Francis obediently walked away to do what he was told while Arthur went to retrieve the suitcase. He was glad he had at least remembered that Francis didn’t have a toothbrush and helped him get one before further confusing the boy.  


When he reached the suitcase he opened it and looked for the nicest outfit he could find. If they were going to see the Prime Minister of England and the President of France they both needed to be dressed properly.  


He pulled out a white dress shirt, a pair of black trousers, and a gray vest before closing the suitcase and carrying it and the clothes back upstairs for Francis to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will consist of Arthur and Francis visiting their bosses to see what will happen to Francis. Will his boss know anything about what caused him to become a child?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

The two of them arrived at the Prime Minister's Office around eight thirty after a breakfast of scones and tea, Arthur being too distracted to make anything else. He led Francis inside and through the maze of rooms and corridors to the private office where he would be meeting with the two diplomats. It took him a little longer than it usually did due to Francis limping from his still injured leg but when they finally arrived his assistant met him at the door and informed him that he was the last to arrive by only a few minutes.

"Well I shan't keep them any longer I suppose," he said with a sigh, thinking of everything he had to say. "While I am talking to them can you look after Francis and keep him entertained?" He gestured to the boy next to him with a look on his face that clearly indicated that he would take no questions on the matter.

"Of course."

"Good." He turned to the boy. _"Francis, come with me for just a moment and then I want you to stay with Ms. Archer until I return, alright?"_ The boy nodded and clutched his hand. Arthur took a deep breath and stepped into the room with Francis in tow. "Good morning gentlemen," he started. "I apologize for keeping you waiting. My morning did not go quite as smoothly as I am used to." The two men were barely listening to him and were instead staring at Francis who shrank back under the attention. "As you may have noticed I have a child with me but he'll be going now."

His assistant took that as her cue to collect Francis and did so. Once he was out of the room the politicians focused on Arthur.

"Mr. Kirkland!" his Prime Minister barked. "What were you thinking bringing a child here?!"

The French President had a different reaction, his face was curious and his words soft, "Who is he?"

"I will answer both of your questions," Arthur replied coolly. "But first, Monsieur Hollande, when was the last time you heard from France?"

The man laughed.

"A few days ago, of course!"

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur responded "Don't lie to me, Monsieur Hollande. It doesn't suit you." The French President started to interrupt, indignant, but Arthur continued before he could say anything. "I know you haven't heard from him for weeks. I know that you don't know where he is." He grinned smugly. "You told me so yourself."

"I did no such thing!"

"If you had talked to France recently you would have recognized him today."

The two men stared at him blankly.

"What on Earth are you talking about, Kirkland?!"

Slowly Arthur walked around the room to sit in a chair.

"I had a feeling that something was wrong with France so last night I went to see him." Two sets of eyes tracked his movements closely. "However, when I arrived at his estate I found it in a curious state. The front door was unlocked, the heat was off, dishes had been abandoned on the dining room table. It was all quite strange. I wandered through the house, looking for clues as to what had gone on. At the end of the hall on the second floor I found the same child that accompanied me here today. And though this child does not seem to remember anything past the last couple weeks I believe that he is the same France that is missing."

The two diplomats were frozen, trying to process what Arthur had just said.

"B-But-!" Hollande stuttered, trying desperately to share his thoughts. "B-But that could be any child! He could just be an orphan who snuck into a house he thought was unoccupied!"

"I understand your disbelief. I didn't believe it myself at first but I am positive that the boy I showed you earlier is France."

At this the men started asking dozens of questions in rapid succession; Arthur doing his best to answer them with the little information he had.

Finally Hollande asked, "So if he is France, what do we do? He needs someone to take care of him."

"I will," Arthur replied, somewhat surprising himself.

"You have other duties to take care of," Cameron pointed out.

"I can do both. I think that I need to take care of him. You don't understand our needs and he needs more protection than a human can offer. Monsieur Hollande, your nation is in a very delicate state right now. Its representative has been dwarfed to a small child. It is going to be a lot of weight on his shoulders. France is a large and powerful nation and it will be painful for him as he currently is."

Confusion in his eyes, Hollande asked, "Why is that?"

Arthur sighed and stood up, starting to pace.

"When nations come into existence, the parts that will one day make up the country we'll become are usually scattered or made up of tribes. As the parts start to come together and we grow as nations, our bodies adapt to the change by growing larger and stronger. We do not age like you do. And right now France is a thriving nation in the modern world. France's normal body is the way it is to keep up with that and he is only injured from certain events. The body he currently has is nowhere near strong enough for all the pressure of being a nation like his normal one is."

When the leaders continued to stare at him blankly he pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to dumb down what he was saying. "Imagine you have a rock perpetually on your shoulders. As you grow up, the rock gets bigger but not enough that you can't handle it. Then one day you somehow turn back into a child but you still have that rock. However, the rock stays the same size. What would happen? It might crush you so you have to have someone help you so that doesn't happen."

The men nodded as they finally understood.

"So what do we do?"

"Well first of all, Monsieur Hollande. I want you to find someone to take care of France's duties until he is back to normal." He turned to his own leader, "And Cameron, I need you to relieve me of a few of mine so I can try to figure out what caused this sudden change and attempt to turn him back."

The English diplomat nodded sternly.

"Fine. Some of your work will be given to someone else so that you may attempt to take care of France." Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "On one condition. If France becomes too much of a burden for you, you must return him to his people." He extended his hand.

"I agree," Arthur replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

"Then it is settled."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So Arthur is going to take care of Francis and keep working. What will he do with him and will he be a good guardian?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

After another half an hour of figuring out what duties Arthur would be allowed to give up and what would happen to Francis while he was at work. It was decided that Arthur would enroll Francis in school with would allow him to be educated and out of Arthur’s hair so he could work. Also, if anyone was looking for the nation they were unlikely to look a primary school for him and if they raided Arthur’s home it was less probable that the boy would be there.  


In exchange Arthur argued that his schedule had to be changed so that he could take care of Francis or he would refuse to do any of his assignments. Cameron gave in at that and they worked out a new routine: Arthur would drop Francis off at school on his way to work until half an hour before school was let out and then he was allowed to be done for the day if he had finished all of his assignments. If he hadn’t then he would finish them at home. On his way back he would pick up Francis from school.  


He was also given the week off to better get to know Francis and find the best school for Francis. Not only that but it would take a few days to make fake documents for Francis such as a birth certificate and previous school records.  


At the end of the meeting Arthur strolled out of the room with a grin, he was proud of his negotiation skills. His assistant met him at the door.  


“How did it go?” she asked.  


“Fine. A lot was taken care of.” He looked around. “Where is Francis?” His assistant led him into one of the nearby, empty offices. Looking into the room he saw the boy sitting in the big chair behind the desk with a book in his lap, deeply engrossed in his reading. “What is he reading?”  


“Philibert.”  


“Where did he get it?”  


“Your meeting was taking a while so we went on a walk. He asked to stop at a bookstore so we did and he found that book so I bought it for him and he hasn’t put it down since.”  


Without turning his head away from the boy he replied, “I will pay you back for that.”  


“You don’t need to. I was glad to get it for him,” she answered quietly. She did not have any children of her own or any nieces or nephews she could spoil so she was happy to watch Francis while her boss was busy.  


“Does he understand it? Is he actually reading it or is he just looking at the pictures?”  


“He can read. He seems very intelligent.”  


They continued to watch him until Francis looked up and smiled.  


_“Are you done, Mr. Arthur?”_   


Nodding, he said, _“Yes Francis. We can go now.”_  


The boy climbed down from the big chair and hurried over to him with the book in his hands.  


_“Thank you for the book, Miss Archer.”_   


_“You’re welcome, Francis.”_   


Arthur took the boy’s hand and turned to his assistant. “Thank you for your help today. I will get in contact with you later tonight and let you know about what is changing and what your duties are going to be now, alright?” She nodded. “Good. I will see you later.”  


He and Francis left.  


* * *  


On the way home Arthur stopped to at a few stores to pick up some things that he needed for Francis such as a booster seat, school supplies, and some new clothes. When they got home he put the items he had purchased on the kitchen table except for the clothes which he kept with him as he led Francis through the house, giving him a tour. Each room was given a name, a short description, and either a _“Yes you may enter”_ or _“No, stay out of this room.”_ They paused outside a room on the second floor. _“This is my study, it’s where I work when I’m at home. I do not want to be disturbed if I am in this room, okay?”_ Francis nodded politely. _“Good. Come this way.”_ Slowly they made their way back to the door to the room Francis was staying in. Arthur opened the door and stepped inside the room to hang up the old and new clothes in the wardrobe.  


Francis stayed in the doorway, looking at the room properly since he was unable to that morning. The walls were a light gray and the ceiling sloped on one side starting above the only window on the far wall which had old gray curtains. Underneath it was a gray desk that faced out the window. Across from the desk was a twin bed with a dark gray metal frame and gray sheets against the wall. There was a small matching nightstand next to it with a gray lamp on it that was identical to the one on the desk. The only other piece of furniture in the room besides the small desk chair was the large wardrobe across from the door that Arthur was busy putting clothes into and Francis shivered.  


Finishing his task, Arthur turned to see that Francis had yet to move from the doorway.  


_“Come on, lad. You can put your book on the desk and come with me to make supper or you can read until I finish and come get you.”_   


_“I want to finish reading please.”_   


With a short nod, Arthur replied, _“Alright. I will be back when it is done.”_  


Then he left Francis in the small room.  


* * *  


When Arthur came back he found Francis sitting at the desk, staring out the window. His eyes were unfocused and clearly thinking deeply. _“Francis,”_ he called softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever thoughts he was pondering.  


Slowly the boy turned, gaze blurry, and blinked, coming out of his reverie.  


_“Yes…?”_   


_“Supper is ready.”_   


_“Okay…”_   


He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up, heading over to Arthur. Together they walked down to the dining room where the table was laid with a simple meal of bread, tea, and stew.  


The Englishman helped the boy into one seat and took the one across from him. He began eating and was soon a good way through his meal but when he looked up he saw that Francis had yet to touch his food.  


_“What is it?”_ he asked, a bit angry that he had worked hard to cook dinner and the boy wouldn’t even eat it. He had never known Francis at this age but surely he was not already so picky when he had so little choice?  


_“We have not thanked God yet,”_ the child whispered back simply, staring at his lap where his hands were properly folded.  


Biting his cheek he remembered that while he was not exactly religious anymore, it was tough when he didn’t know which faith to follow, Francis had been for as long as they had known each other.  


_“Er, yes. You are right, Francis. I apologize.”_ He gently set his spoon down and clasped his hands, closing his eyes and trying to think of something to say. _“Dear God, thank you for this meal. Please protect us while we are vulnerable,”_ with that he snuck a glance at the boy across from him who, luckily, still had his eyes dutifully closed. _“And make sure no harm comes to us. Amen.”_  


_“Amen,”_ Francis’ quiet voice repeated, opening his eyes and picking up his spoon.  


After that the meal was spent in silence and when they were both finished Arthur sent the boy up to get ready for bed while he did the dishes. Once he was done, he went upstairs to the little room Francis was in. He knocked twice on the door before pushing it open.  


Inside he found Francis was already changed and lying in bed.  


_“Did you brush your teeth?”_   


_“Yes.”_   


_“Very good. Good night.”_   


_“Good night.”_   


Turning off the light Arthur closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone freaks out about the small religious content, don't forget that France is a strong Catholic and it's even mentioned in the show.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

The next morning Arthur awoke to his alarm at eight o'clock which caused him to groan and roll over. He had been up late the previous night writing a detailed email to his assistant about the upcoming changes. Not only that but he had been researching nearby schools that he could send Francis to while he worked. He had narrowed it down to a few options that included both public and private schools as well as bilingual and non-bilingual schools.

After a while he forced himself to get up and go make breakfast. On the way down he passed the living room where he saw Francis standing in front of a table. When he saw him he instantly turned and walked over to him silently instead because he could feel the sadness coming off the boy.

_"Is that you?"_ the boy asked quietly without turning, pointing at an old picture. In it was a much younger Arthur holding two children who were both smiling brightly.

_"Yes,"_ Arthur answered, standing next to him. _"Those are my boys. They are grown up now."_

_"You look very happy."_ The boy looked up at him with eyes that seemed to be able to read his soul. _"You do not seem very happy anymore."_

Avoiding Francis' deep gaze, he picked up the picture and looked at it longingly. _"Things change. My boys grew up and left me. They have their own homes now. That's how the world works."_

_"Do they have children?"_

_"No."_ The two were quiet for a while before Arthur broke the silence by saying, _"Why don't you go into the kitchen and wait for breakfast?"_

The boy stared at him for a moment before nodding and leaving the room.

Arthur followed him after he put the picture back where it usually was but face-down.

Inside the kitchen Francis was patiently sitting at the table, playing with the hem of his nightshirt.

_"That is much nicer than my Papa has. Is it expensive?"_

The older blond paused and turned to him.

_"What? No."_

He was confused by the simple question. Since when did Francis care about price? The man would spend thousands of dollars on clothes without batting an eye but this child seemed honestly worried that Arthur had spoiled him.

_"Oh good. I was about to give it back and ask you to sell it. I don't need fancy clothes."_

Still thrown off, Arthur came and sat across from him.

_"You don't?"_ he asked, still confused. _"I can afford them."_

The boy thought it over before shaking his head, eyes going distant.

_"I should have been able to tell that you are rich. You have such a large manor. Mama made all our clothes. We could not go to the market very often…"_ He sighed sadly. _"I miss Mama making my clothes. They were nicer than any of the clothes Nonno or Opa gave me…"_

Suddenly the boy snapped back to himself and his vision focused. At the same time his stomach rumbled and Arthur knew that now was not the time to ask about what he had just learned.

_"I'll make breakfast. You wait here."_

He got up in a slight daze and started making them both some oatmeal.

* * *

Late that night Arthur lay awake in his bed, thinking deeply about what Francis had said. He hadn't been able to sit and think about it until now.

Most of the day had been spent in more silence. He had done more research on schools for Francis, eager to get that squared away, and had decided on one. He had even called and set up an appointment for the next day. Francis had simply sat in an armchair and read his book unless it was lunch or supper time.

But now Francis was fed, bathed, and in bed, hopefully asleep. Now he was free to think.

He had known Francis since they were children. But no, _he_ had known him since he was a child. Francis had already been in his early teens when they had met. Before now he had never stopped to think about the other's life before they had met. He had always assumed that he was as loud, self-confident, and outgoing as a child as he was as an adult. Probably raised by some kind mentor nation who spoiled him but this little boy was very quiet and somewhat shy. He was very similar to Matthew when he had been a child.

And he was shocked by what he had heard. Never before had the thought of Francis having parents entered his head. He didn't remember his own parents because they had died when he was very young but it seems like Francis' had been a big part of his life for much longer. They had all lived together and his mother had made them their clothes.

It was hard to imagine Francis as ever being poor or wearing shoddy clothes so he thought that his mother must have done it because she enjoyed it and was gifted with the talent. Otherwise why would he find her clothes better than the ones he had been given?

Another thing Francis had said tugged at him suddenly. _'Nonno. Opa. Grandfather.'_ Francis had two grandfathers. He had known both of his grandfathers. They had given him clothes but he had preferred the clothes made by his mother. And he had said that in such a heartbroken way. Had something happened around the time he got clothes from his Nonno or his Opa?

_'Opa'_ made him pause again. Everyone knew that Francis and Feliciano were related, it was easy to tell, so it made sense that he had a nonno but an opa? 'Opa' was a German word. Does that mean that he's German? How? Was he related to Germania as well as Rome?

The short memory that had been shared on accident had put so many questions in his head that he had never considered or even cared about until today and now he felt like he needed to know everything, to answer all the question buzzing around his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Next time Arthur will have his meeting with the school to decide if that will be the best choice for Francis.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

"So you want me to watch Francis while you are out?"

"Yes. Hopefully I should only be gone for a few hours but if it is longer I will let you know. Make sure that no one gets anywhere near the house. It does not matter if they are human or nation, Francis is a secret and it is imperative no one knows of his existence."

"I understand."

They continued talking softly.

Unknown to them, Francis had woken up. The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was which surprised him slightly. Usually at this time of day he could hear Mr. Arthur puttering around in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Francis and tea for himself, having already eaten. Curious, he slipped down the stairs and wandered around the ground floor until he peeked around a corner and found Mr. Arthur sitting with Miss Archer, whispering.

A flash of movement caught Arthur's eye and he looked up to see Francis' innocent eyes watching him with a questioning gaze.

_"Oh Francis,"_ he called in a gentle tone, waving the boy into the room. Francis padded over to the pair and stood by Arthur's side. _"I did not know you were awake. I am sorry but I have not made your breakfast yet. Miss Archer and I have been discussing some work and lost track of time."_ Looking down at his watch, Arthur quickly finished what little was left in his tea cup and stood up. _"Unfortunately I have to go out for a bit today but Miss Archer is going to stay here with you. Do you understand?"_ Francis nodded obediently. _"Good. I will be back as soon as I can."_

With that, Arthur turned and left.

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me," he started as he sat down across from three people. "I only have a few days off of work to get this resolved."

"Of course," the man on the other side of the desk replied. He was a larger man with an easy smile on his face. His white hair thinned as it moved towards his forehead and was dressed in a simple gray suit. "My name is Mr. Pendleton, the woman to my left is Mrs. Croft." He indicated a middle aged woman who appeared to be well versed in educational matters. "And this is Mr. Cooper." To his right was a young man with caramel skin and dark hair. "We know how hard it is to make sure your child is placed in the right school-"

"I am sorry to interrupt but Francis is not my child." Three sets of bewildered eyes stared at him so he continued. "I am currently Francis' guardian but I am not his father."

"Oh," the woman whispered.

A few silent, uncomfortable minutes passed until the man behind the table with the white hair asked, "May we be made aware of why that is?"

Arthur took a deep breath and began reciting the story he and his bosses had created.

"Francis' father works for the French government in a top secret department. Because of his position, he was always worried that something might happen to him and he would not be able to care for his dear son. Since we had known each other since we were children, he asked if anything ever happened to him would I watch after Francis?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "To ease his troubled mind I agreed. I never thought that I would actually need to do so." He sighed sadly, looking down. "However, a few weeks ago he disappeared. Social services picked Francis up and held him until they discovered the paper I had signed claiming guardianship of him if his father ever went missing. They released him to me after proving the document's authenticity and I was given a week of leave in order to find and enroll him in a school in England. I work for our government, in a position that does not need to be named, and while I saw Francis' father occasionally when our work overlapped, I never met his son. The most I saw was an enthusiastic picture now and again."

As he spoke the three people across from him started sending each other strange looks.

"Mr. Kirkland," the older man began once Arthur had finished. "Do you have any paperwork to back this up? It is a little hard to believe your story."

"Yes, of course." Reaching into the bag on the floor next to him, he pulled out a manila folder that his assistant had brought him that morning. "Here you are." He handed the folder to the man. "This is everything that was released to me when Francis was."

The man removed the contents and flipped through them: a forged guardianship note, a fake birth certificate, and fictitious doctor's records.

"This is all well and good but what of his school records? He is seven years old, correct?"

"Yes," Arthur replied politely. "Francis is seven but before now he has been taught by private tutors. His father was very old-fashioned. I would have continued to have him educated by private tutors but I cannot afford to do so and I do not believe that way of learning is appropriate today or helpful for his social development."

The woman smiled at that.

"That's true. Being educated by a tutor alone makes it very hard for a child to learn social customs and behaviors. It would be slightly more feasible if there were other children in the house but from what I can gather this is not the case, is this true?" Arthur nodded. "Then your thoughts are just."

"In order to properly place Francis in the correct grade he will need to take a placement test since he has no previous school records," the man in the middle added.

"Is there a version of the test that is given in French?"

"No. It is only in English."

"Then it will be difficult for you to obtain an accurate recording since Francis does not know a word of English."

Dumbfounded silence greeted his words as the others in the room stared at him.

"H-He doesn't understand English?" the man in the middle asked, exasperated.

"No. His father does not know any English so Francis was not taught that language."

This information caused the woman to lean towards him, eyes challenging.

"If his father does not know English then how did the two of you communicate?"

_"I am fluent in French,"_ he replied, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her, proving his statement to be true with five simple words. He was not afraid of this woman and had told no, harmful, lies.

Detecting the rising ferocity between the two, Mr. Pendleton decided to cut in.

"Mr. Kirkland, you are aware that this is not a bilingual school, yes?" The blond man nodded. "Then why are you attempting to place him in this particular school? There are several bilingual schools in London and they are all competent."

Arthur stared at him for several long minutes before finally answering, "I want him to learn English," with a simple tone.

"And you don't think bilingual schools do that?" the older man questioned, trying to understand the line of thought.

"I believe they do but I also want him to learn quickly so that he can navigate and survive in an English based country.

_'I want him to be safe,'_ he added in his head. _'I want him to be able get help if someone tries to harm him. I want him to feel like there is no reason to be scared even as I try to hide him away from whoever caused him to change.'_

"If I am correct in my assumption," Mrs. Croft interjected. "Then you believe that placing Francis in an English only classroom will teach him this foreign language faster?"

"Yes."

"This is a common misconception, Mr. Kirkland. If you were to place Francis in the classroom that you think he belongs in then you will cause him a great deal of damage. Not only will his language skills be harmed but also his social and emotional development when he cannot communicate or bond with his classmates. And his academics will be negatively affected since he will not be able to understand his instructor or the work he is given. Due to this I honestly believe that the best option for Francis would be a bilingual school."

Arthur was not convinced.

"Francis is a very bright child. I truly believe that he will grasp the language quickly."

The younger man took this moment to finally join the conversation.

"Mr. Kirkland, it seems to me that you are worried that bilingual schools will not prepare Francis well enough with either his academics or his language development. Is this true?" Arthur said nothing. "I thought so. I myself went to a bilingual school when I was a child. Do I seem to be struggling with my second language?" The blond man shook his head. "Exactly. The school Mr. Pendleton has in mind for Francis will be a fine fit for him, Mr. Kirkland. Do not worry."

"Francis will be happy at this school. I promise you," Mrs. Croft added. "He will not have to fight to learn in a language he does not know and he will still be able to learn English. He may be a bit behind due to only being taught by tutors but his classmates will be able to help him catch up." She paused for a moment. "Have you heard of Vygotsky's Theory of Social Development?" Arthur shook his head again. "It states that children learn best by working together and exchanging ideas. This is something Francis would be striped of at this school but would be able to utilize at a bilingual school."

"Please understand that we are not trying to harm you or Francis. We only want what's best for him which, unfortunately, is not this school."

Taking a deep breath, Arthur made up his mind. "All right."

The older man smiled.

"I'm glad you understand. I will call the other school and have Francis enrolled. As soon as I am finished I will send you an email to confirm it's taken care of and so you can see the documents for yourself. Is that a deal?"

"Yes. Thank you."

The four stood up, shook hands, and meeting was over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics-speaking in French or internal thoughts  
> No Italics-speaking in English

Francis started school three days later on the following Monday. The night before Arthur had packed his backpack and prepared a lunch for the boy so they would be all set to go as soon as they were dressed. Arthur had also told Francis to pick out what he wanted to wear on his first day which had turned out to be a good decision.

After telling him to decide on his clothes, Arthur had gone downstairs to pull together the boy's backpack and lunch. That had taken nearly half an hour and when he went back upstairs to check on Francis, he found clothes all over the room and a frantic child in the middle of it all.

_"What is going on here?"_ he demanded and the boy flew around to face him, tears in his nervous eyes.

_"Mr. Arthur,"_ he whimpered. _"I cannot decide! All of these clothes are very nice but they do not feel right!"_

The boy threw himself onto the bed, crying quietly.

With a frustrated sigh Arthur stepped into the room, glancing around at all of the clothes. Nearly every item in the closet had been pulled out so only a few were left hanging inside. The ones left inside were either meant for sleeping or a far more formal event.

_"Keep thinking and I will be right back,"_ he finally said before turning around and leaving the room." When he returned he was carrying a cardboard box similar to the ones he had brought down from the attic in France's house. There was something written on the side but Francis could not read it and Arthur did not seem likely to read it to him. _"See if there is anything you like in here,"_ he began stiffly, not looking at Francis or the box. _"If you do, hang it up and let me now. I want you to be ready for tomorrow before you go to bed so that things go as smoothly as possible. I don't want to be running around in a tizzy which could make us late."_

_"Okay,"_ Francis replied solemnly, approaching the box. _"I will."_

* * *

The following morning woke up at six and immediately slipped out of bed and shuffled over to his attached bathroom to take a shower. Twenty minutes later he stepped out and quickly dressed for the day.

He chose a light gray suit with which he matched a simple black tie. Once his teeth were brushed, his hair combed, and his tie straight with a Full Windsor Knot, most important of all, he padded downstairs to begin cooking some hearty oatmeal for both himself and Francis. The kettle was placed to heat up on the stove on his way back upstairs.

As he reached Francis' door he paused. No sound could be heard from inside so he assumed the boy was still asleep. Knocking quietly, he opened the door and peered inside.

Francis was not asleep like he had thought but was instead sitting at the desk looking out the window, still in his nightclothes.

_"Good morning,"_ Arthur whispered to the still child. _"How long have you been awake?"_

The boy turned to look at the clock on his bedside that Arthur had added a few days prior.

_"A couple of hours,"_ he responded in a quiet voice.

_"Did you sleep well?"_

_He shook his head._

_"I kept thinking about how I start school today."_

_"Ah,"_ Arthur replied, somewhat lamely. _"Well, come downstairs. Breakfast should be ready by now."_ The boy stood and obediently followed him to the kitchen, the shrill cry of the kettle his greeting. _"Go sit down at the table and I will bring you a bowl."_

Francis did as he was asked and a few moments later a bowl of gray oatmeal was placed in front of him along with a glass of milk. Arthur joined the table after filling his own bowl and pouring himself a cup of tea.

_"Are you nervous about today?"_ he asked after an extended silence. Francis nodded. _"How come? Are you worried about the coursework or the teacher? Or your classmates?"_ He didn't receive an answer.

Attempting to communicate with this Francis was difficult and off-putting. No matter how things were between them, they had always been able to talk. Usually Francis was full of topics but this younger version of him seemed unwilling to talk to him if he could help it.

Breakfast continued in silence. When Francis was finished, Arthur sent him upstairs to brush his teeth and hair and get dressed. Sneaking a quick look at his watch, he discovered it was nearly seven. They were keeping to his schedule well.

He walked to the entryway, grabbing Francis' backpack along the way; a simple check inside assured him that the lunch he prepared the night before was resting safely inside along with all the boy's school supplies. The bag was set down by the door so he could pull out shoes for the two of them. A pair of gray Oxfords and a pair of tan loafers for Francis.

Shortly after pulling them out, Francis joined him in the hallway wearing tan pants, a white button up shirt with a high collar, and a brown vest. He quickly slipped his shoes on.

_"Are you ready?"_ Francis nodded and Arthur picked up his briefcase and his backpack. _"Then let's go."_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English

The day passed quickly and before he knew it, it was time to pick up Francis from school. As he packed up his briefcase, he called his driver and ordered the man to be ready outside within five minutes. The man was waiting for him when he exited the building so he slid into the back seat and the car drove off.

They arrived at the school after a short trip and Arthur had the driver park so he could enter the school. Many children were waiting outside but Francis was not among them so he continued past them into the building. A woman sitting behind a counter stopped him and he informed her that he was looking for his student. With a nod, the woman checked which teacher Francis had and called him.

"Alright," she started as she hung up. "He was talking to the teacher and they just finished so he'll be here in a few moments. Please have a seat while you wait." She motioned to one of he chairs in the room. Arthur did as he was asked and shortly Francis walked in, looking at the floor under his shoes. When he entered, his guardian rose from his seat and walked to his side, leading him out of the school.

_"How was your day?"_ Arthur asked him.

_"Fine,"_ was the short response he received.

Arthur looked at him out of the corner of his eye but decided to let the conversation drop. If Francis didn't want to talk then there was no reason to push it. He would speak if and when he wanted to.

The two climbed into the car and the driver helped Francis into and secure his booster seat before closing the door and slipping back into the front.

* * *

Francis' Day

Francis was shaking. All of the other students seemed to be staring or laughing at him. No one would help him find his classroom, even when he asked for help. Some of the students started making fun of his accent and saying things about him in the language Arthur used, laughing harder when he didn't understand.

Eventually a young teacher had spotted his wide, terrified doe eyes and come to his rescue.

Kneeling next to him she asked, _"What is the matter, dear?"_ He barely managed to stutter out an answer and she smiled kindly at him. _"Don't worry. I'll help you."_ The nice lady led him through corridors and under arches until they stopped in front of a door. _"This is your classroom,"_ she said in a sweet voice.

_"Are you my teacher?"_ Francis finally forced out.

_"Oh no, dear. I am a Grade 2 teacher but you are not in my class. You are in Mr. Pearson's class."_

At that moment, a tall man opened the door.

"Ah, you must be the new student I was told about. Frank, I think?"

"Mr. Pearson, this is Francis. He's a little nervous about his first day of school so please be gentle."

"We'll see about that Miss Gray. Now why don't you run along back to your classroom before the bell rings?"

The woman turned slightly red and hurried off.

"Come in," the man growled to Francis and he had no choice but to enter the room. The classroom was not too small but it felt tiny to the boy as all the students already in the class turned to look at him. "Listen up, brats," the teacher said to the class. "We got another one of you today. His name is Frank." He turned to the boy and pointed at a desk in the back. "Go sit over there." The boy didn't move, not sure what the teacher had said. "Don't be insubordinate." Francis started to shake, nerves on edge from the teacher's hard tone. He felt lost again, like when Arthur had been talking to him in the other language.

Furious that the student wasn't listening to him, the teacher picked the boy up by the bag on his back, carried him over to the desk, and dropped him into the chair.

"Get out your workbooks, turn to page fifty-three, and get to work! Tommy, get Frank a book out of the closet!"

A boy stood up from his seat, pulled a thick workbook out of a cupboard, and threw it at Francis' feet. Jumping at the bang that came from the force of the book hitting the ground, Francis let out a small whimper before reaching down to pick it up.

He placed it on his desk and retrieved a pencil from his bag. The teacher had said something before he was given a book but he wasn't sure what. With a quick look around, he saw that his peers had their books open so he opened his. Peering over at the book of the student next to him, he saw the page number and started to turn to the correct page.

"FRANK!" His head shot up to look at the teacher, eyes wide and full of fear. The man stalked over to him. "There is no cheating permitted in this class!"

The man grabbed Francis' desk and dragged it over to a corner, turning it so it faced the wall instead of the rest of the class. The boy hung his head in humiliation and tried to keep his tears from rolling down his face. He wiped his eyes and turned to the correct page. He froze and felt more tears slide out of his eyes. The problems in the workbook weren't in French so he couldn't read them. He noticed two problems at the bottom of the page that were simple mathematics, using only numbers so he solved them. Turning his attention back to the top of the page, he attempted to look for any words he might know in despair.

When lunchtime finally arrived, the two math problems were the only completed problems on the page.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English

By the end of the day Francis had not managed to fill in any more of his workbook nor any of the other material they had gone over in class. It wasn't for a lack of trying though. He had struggled to do some of the work, any of it, but it had all been in the same foreign language that the workbook had been. He guessed that it was the same language that his teacher used in class.

When the bell rang he quickly packed up his supplies and hurried over to line up with the rest of the class. The teacher stood by the door, watching the students leave. As Francis started to step out of the room a hand blocked his path. The door was closed and a hand on his shoulder pulled him further into the room.

"I do not know what your previous teachers were like but in my class you will not cheat, you will do your work, and you will listen to me. Do you understand?" Francis didn't answer, not knowing what the teacher had said, again. "Great," the man grumbled. "They gave me one of those stupid kids who can't speak." He walked over to the door and opened it, pointing into the hall. "Out."

Francis hesitantly stepped towards the door and when he wasn't halted, walked into the hallway just as the phone on the desk rang. The door slammed shut as the teacher went to answer it.

* * *

Now Francis was at home where he felt calmer, safer. Arthur was in his study, doing a last bit of work, so Francis was in the living room. He looked around and noticed that one of the pictures on the side table wasn't standing up with the others. Walking across the room, he picked it up and looked at it; it was the picture of Arthur with the two kids that he had seen previously. He wasn't sure why the picture had been laying down so he stood it back up with the others on the table.

The sound of a door opening caused him to look up and move into the hallway. A few doors down Arthur was exiting his study. Upon spotting the boy, he stopped, quickly peering at his watch.

_"Oh I'm sorry, Francis",_ he whispered. _"Dinner is going to be late tonight."_

_"Can I have some paper to draw on?"_

The innocent question caught him by surprise.

_"Of course."_ He slipped into his study to grab some paper from the printer for the boy. _"Here you go,"_ he said as he handed it to him.

Francis thanked him and went back to the living room. He retrieved some colored pencils from his backpack and laid down on the carpet to draw. A drawing of three people, one of whom was holding something, was visible by the time Arthur came to collect him for dinner. Again Arthur tried to ask Francis about his day at school but the boy wouldn't talk about it. He eventually gave up trying and they ate in silence.

While Arthur put away the food and cleaned dishes, Francis went back to his drawing. He was so caught up in his picture that he didn't notice Arthur reenter the room and come to his side.

_"What are you drawing?"_ he asked politely.

Francis didn't look at him and instead pointed to a woman on the left side of the picture. _"That's my Mama."_ He moved his finger to point at the man on the right. _"That's Papa."_ His finger hovered over the middle person. _"And that's me."_

_"It looks very good,"_ Arthur complimented causing a cheerful smile to appear on Francis' face. Leaving Francis to draw, he sat in an armchair and picked up a book on the table next to it, beginning to read silently. _'The boy had drawn his parents,'_ a stray thought tugged at him. _'He remembers them and he drew them. You can see what they look like.'_

He dismissed the thoughts and tried to focus on reading. Soon enough it was time for Francis to go to bed so he sent the boy up to start his bedtime routine. He waited for a few minutes before diving across the room and snatching up the paper. The adult Francis was quite a talented artist, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and it seemed he had been rather skilled as a child as well.

A young woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes like Francis was looking up at him. Her hair was in a tight braid and a flower was peeking out from behind her ear. _'A rose,'_ he noted. She had been drawn wearing a light green garment, possibly a dress, with a pale, yellow belt around her waist.

He tore his eyes away to look at the man. He had curly brown hair and green eyes, similar to Spain. His face was less angular than the woman's and looked identical to how the adult Francis did. The man had been dressed in a plain white shirt and tan bottoms that weren't drawn in enough detail to determine what period that had been from.

Doing some quick calculations he rationed that it had to be before 476 when the Roman Empire fell. That was if Rome was truly Francis' grandfather. He guessed that one of them was probably Gaul but when had Gaul fallen to Rome again…? He wracked his brain. It was one of the more obscure dates he knew so it took him a few moments to remember but when it did his eyes widened and he dropped the paper.

Gaul had fallen in 58 B.C.E. Francis had been born before 58 B.C.E. He had thought Francis came into being in the 400 or 500s but if he really was Gaul's child then he was even older than he had thought. The man, or boy as he was currently, was over two thousand years old.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English

After the events of the previous day, Francis was dreading going back to school. He still knew nothing of the other language in his workbook and could already hear his teacher yelling in his head. Due to his nerves, he did not sleep well and did not wake until Arthur came into his room and gently shook his shoulder.

_"Francis",_ he called softly. _"You need to wake up or we'll both be late today."_ It was only for the sake of Arthur's job that he slipped out from under the warm covers, brushed his teeth and hair, and pulled on a pair of brown pants and a light green shirt. _"Ah, thank you,"_ Arthur said as he reached the bottom step, smiling at him. _"I appreciate your promptness. I have a busy day ahead of me as I'm sure you do as well."_ The boy tried not to think about what his day was going to include. Instead, he chose to watch Arthur grab his backpack and hand him a small, poppy seed muffin. _"You slept so long you don't have time for breakfast so I thought you could have that on the way. Normally Jeffrey detests eating in the car but he's agreed to make an exception this time."_ Arthur looked down at his watch. _"And we really must be going now."_ Turning around, he opened the door for Francis. He could see Jeffrey standing next to the car in the drive, also holding a door open, like he did every day.

Francis walked past him and over to the waiting car, Jeffrey helping him in as usual. His driver buckled the boy into his booster seat while Arthur approached them. Their system was well oiled and Jeffrey was already finished helping Francis and standing on Arthur's side of the car, waiting to assist him. He held the door open for the Arthur while the man slid inside and closed it behind him before returning to his own seat and starting the journey.

With a sigh, Arthur set his briefcase and Francis' backpack on the seat between him and the boy. Looking to the side, he saw that Francis was staring out the window, muffin forgotten in his cupped hands. _"Francis, are you going to eat your breakfast?"_ The boy didn't seem to hear him. _"Francis?"_ Still he received no response which caused him to frown. It reminded him of the previous day. Something was bothering Francis but he wasn't going to be able to pull it out of him. Francis would talk about it when he wanted to though it would be several days before he would find out what was on his mind.

* * *

Francis had chosen to wear one of the tunics he had brought to Arthur's house today. Despite the torture that each day delivered, he felt a little less miserable on this day in the pretty, yellow tunic. It was lined in thick fabric to keep him warm during the cold month.

His schoolwork hadn't improved in the past week nor his relationship with his peers. As he was walking back to his seat after sharpening his pencil, one of his classmates stuck out his leg and tripped him. The sudden change in balance knocked him to the ground and caused a stabbing pain to shoot through his palm. A surprised whimper slipped out of his mouth and laughter flared up around him.

Looking down in shame, he went pale. The newly sharpened point of his pencil was impaled in his left palm, blood slowly dripping to the floor. He stood up with shaking legs, wobbling over to his teacher. His knowledge of his teacher's language was still nothing so he simply held up his hand to show his distress. The teacher barely glanced at him, only pulled out the pencil, handed him a tissue, and pointed at his desk. Francis stared at him, dumbfounded, so his teacher glared before pointing again. Sighing, Francis went back to his desk.

* * *

Once again Francis was halted at the door. His teacher pulled him back into the room and closed the door. Francis automatically looked down as his teacher began yelling at him like he did every day after class. He had yet to understand what the older man was saying with such venom but he nevertheless persisted. Today he seemed to take longer than usual so he clenched his right fist, waiting to be released.

Peering out the car window, Arthur could not see Francis waiting for him so he asked Jeffrey to drop him off once more so he could look for the child. Entering the school, he saw the same woman in the office and she called down to check on Francis. She informed him that the teacher was talking to Francis and would send him down soon. As she started to hang up the phone, something in her face changed and she paused. "You might want to hear this," she said quietly, pressing a button.

At once angry yelling and harsh words filled the room.

"It's no wonder you get no work done in this class!" he heard, frozen to the spot. "No one likes you which is why Damien tripped you, Frank! You honestly had it coming! You turn up dressed like that and they think they need to toughen you up. If not, you're going to end up a fag-!"

At that Arthur snapped back to himself. He stomped toward the exit of the office, barely hearing the angry words of the teacher or the pleas to come back. All common sense had gone out the window when he had heard that horrible word. He just knew that he had to get to Francis.

Following the shouting, he found the classroom and threw the door open. He was fuming and seeing the fear in Francis' big blue eyes when his head shot up at the noise only made him more furious. He was at the boy's side in a second, protectively pulling him into his arms. His eyes, however, were burning holes into the teacher.

"How dare you yell at my child like that?" he seethed. He refused to yell, partly because he didn't want to sink to the teacher's level but mostly because he didn't want to scare Francis more than he already was. "His name is Francis, not Frank, and he doesn't know any English so you can't just yell at him when he has no idea what you are saying." He turned Francis to the door and began to lead him out. "I will not allow my child to be in your class any longer."

His temper continued to flare until Francis was safely in the car. Once the door had closed behind them both, Francis threw his arms around his neck and burst into tears. He could feel his shirt start to grow damp but he didn't complain. Instead, he pulled the boy closer and held him while he cried.

_"Has he been yelling at you like that every day?"_ Francis nodded. _"You should have told me. That's not right, Francis. I would have done something about it. Please tell me if something like that happens again."_ They were silent for a long time while Francis cried and Jeffrey drove. Absentmindedly, Arthur began to gently run his fingers through the boy's soft hair.

Something that the teacher said before he entered the room popped into his head suddenly.

_"Francis,"_ he murmured, _"I heard that you were tripped today. Are you alright?"_

The boy hiccuped and shook his head, letting go of Arthur and sitting in his lap to show him his hand. The one tissue he had been given was pressed into his palm and soaked through.

Arthur felt his temper flare up again.

_"What happened?"_

_"I was holding a pencil."_

_"Why do you only have that tissue?"_

_"That's all he would let me have."_

He tightened his grip on the boy. _"I won't let you go back to him. I promise."_ He might have imagined it but he felt like Francis' crying softened a little.


	12. Chapter 12

As soon as they arrived home, Arthur led Francis up to the bathroom to properly clean his hand. He instructed Francis to sit on the closed toilet lid while he pulled out the medical kit. Gauze, medical tape, and bandages were placed on the counter along with some antiseptic and a cotton ball. A little of the antiseptic was poured onto the cotton ball. _“This will sting,”_ he warned before pressing the damp cotton ball against the small wound. The boy tensed and let out a hiss, right hand instinctively grabbing Arthur’s free left hand and squeezing tightly.

After a few moments, the cotton ball was removed but the hand anxiously grasping his did not. Knowing he needed both of his hands to continue working, he slipped his hand free but adjusted slightly so that he was lightly holding Francis’ fingers and moved them to his forearm so he could hold onto that instead. The gauze was picked up and pressed over the little hole, slim fingers squeezing him again. A bit of the medical tape was used to secure the gauze before a bandage was wrapped around his hand a few times to further protect the wound. When he was satisfied, he gently cupped the injured hand with both of his and raised it so he could place a soft kiss on his palm. _“There,”_ he whispered, bringing the hand back to Francis’ lap. _“All done.”_

* * * 

The next morning, a furious Arthur stomped into the school and demanded to talk to the principal. Behind him, Jeffrey carried Francis’ backpack and led him into the school, much more calmly. However, on the inside burned a rage nearly as bright as Arthur’s. He had only known the sweet little boy for a few weeks, but he already felt incredibly protective of him. When he had heard what had happened, he had to stop himself from marching to the school at that moment and giving them a piece of his mind that they would not soon forget. 

The meeting with the principal was accepted and Jeffrey waited outside with Francis while Arthur stalked in. 

A light hand was placed on the driver’s arm. _“Will Mr. Arthur really be able to move me to a different class?”_ the boy asked softly, worried about the answer. 

_“Of course, child,”_ he answered gently. _“That teacher will be lucky if he can get another job after this. Mr. Arthur is very mad.”_

With a quiet noise, the boy leaned against the driver and closed his eyes, praying things would work out. 

* * * 

“Mr. Kirkland,” the principal began, motioning to a seat in front of his desk but Arthur refused to sit; he had too much anger flowing through his body to sit. “What brings you here this morning?” 

“My child, Francis, needs to be moved to another classroom. Immediately!” 

“Can you tell me why?” he asked, voice and posture still calm as he leaned back in his own chair. 

“Your teacher has been screaming obscenities at my child every day, both during and after school. Not only that but his negligence has led to my child’s hand being punctured after blatant bullying in the classroom by the students and the teacher.” 

The other man sat up, placing his elbows on the desk between them. 

“Those are some serious allegations and Mr. Pearson is one of our best teachers. That is why I placed Francis in his room originally. I would not have done that if I did not believe he would be safe.” 

Arthur took a threatening step forward. 

“Yesterday he called my child a fag and would have continued yelling at him in such a manner had I not intervened.” When the principal looked unconvinced, he continued with a glare. “If you do not believe me, ask your receptionist. She heard the whole incident.” 

Sighing, the man called the receptionist into the office. 

“Mary, did anything unusual happen yesterday with this man’s student?” 

The woman looked at Arthur and instantly recognized him, eyes widening. “Yes. It was terrible. There was so much yelling.” She smiled warmly at Arthur. “But he’s a good dad and went to his son’s side.” 

The principal finally sat up fully. 

“Do you have any proof?” 

“I have a recording of the incident. I started it when this man left the office in case it was needed.” 

The man’s calm composure fell as she retrieved the tape and played it. Listening to the event again, made Arthur’s rage all the more noticeable. Finally it ended and he said, “Either you fire that man or you will have an order from the Prime Minister to do so. He will not be pleased to hear this.” He pulled his phone out, waiting to see if he needed to call or not. 

With another sigh, the principal picked up his phone off the desk and ordered the teacher to come to his office. When he was finished, he turned back to the two in front of him. “Mary, take Mr. Kirkland down the hall to reassign Francis Bonnefoy.” 

Nodding, she led him out of the room and into another. Ten minutes later Francis had been moved to another classroom, the teacher notified of the change, and Mary was leading him back to where Francis was waiting with Jeffrey. 

“Everything is arranged,” he said to answer the question clear on Jeffrey’s face. “He will start today.” 

Mary approached Francis and began to lead him to his new classroom while Arthur and Jeffrey watched. 

The door to the principal’s office flew open behind them and a fuming teacher stomped out. 

“You!” he screamed as he recognized Francis in front of him and, before anyone could move, he grabbed the boy around the neck and lifted him as if he were a doll. Francis kicked and scratched whatever he could reach, trying to get free. Slowly his body went limp and he dangled helplessly. 

Suddenly Jeffrey punched the man in the nose with a force that sent his head reeling back into the edge of the doorframe and with a loud crack, he fell to the floor unconscious. Francis’ tiny body crashed down next to him and Arthur scooped him up instantly, checking to see if he was breathing. A soft breath made him relax slightly and start carrying him to the car, Jeffrey following closely. 

“He will start tomorrow.”


	13. Chapter 13

Francis did not want to go to school no matter how much Arthur told him that that teacher would not hurt him again. He tried to explain that he was not allowed near the school and he definitely was not allowed inside. He also said that extra guards were going to be at the school but that made no difference to Francis, he did not want to go.

As they talked, the boy kept touching his neck nervously and something clicked in Arthur's head.

"Would you go if I gave you a scarf you could wear around your neck?" Francis nodded. "Alright." The older blond left the room and came back with a scarf which he wound securely around the boy's neck, covering the ugly purple bruise. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Arthur took his hand and led him downstairs so Jeffrey could drive them to school and work. The child continued to fidget nervously in the car so he did not his release his hand to make him feel a little calmer. When they arrived at the school, Jeffrey parked and they both walked Francis inside. The receptionist allowed them to take him to his new teacher's class so they would all feel more comfortable.

A kind young woman met them at the door, introducing herself and putting them all at peace.

* * *

Even with the good feeling the teacher had given him that morning, Arthur couldn't help but worry about how Francis' school day went. It caused him a great deal of distraction from his work and made him late for not one but two meetings. At one point, Cameron had actually stormed into his office and warned him if he didn't get his head on straight, he'd ship Francis back to France on the next train.

The thinly veiled threat was enough for him to work without a break for the rest of the day.

When it was time to pick up Francis, he tried not to run out the door. He could finally hear how the boy's day went and wasn't going to waste anymore time at work when Francis might need him. Luckily Jeffrey seemed to think similarly as he drove quickly, yet safely, to the school.

Arthur's heart began to race when they pulled up outside and Francis was nowhere to be seen, again. He shared a worried look with Jeffrey before leaping out and dashing inside.

The receptionist was sitting behind the desk still and smiled at him when he entered.

"Miss Gray asked that you come to her classroom. She would like to speak to you about Francis' first day." Seeing his wide eyed look, she held up a hand. "Breathe. He's fine." Arthur took a couple breaths. "There," she soothed. "Do you remember how to get to her room?" He nodded. "Then I'll leave you to it."

Walking down the hallways, he tried to think of any reason Francis' teacher would want to talk to him. Sure, the receptionist said that she wanted to talk about his first day but that couldn't be it, right? His last teacher didn't do that.

He growled at the thought. Francis' last teacher was a monster. Of course he didn't do something like that. But he still couldn't help thinking negatively. There had to be a reason. There had to be. Had Francis gotten hurt again? Surely they would have called him this time. Had he hurt someone else? He definitely would have received a call about that. Had he refused to do his work? Had he slept in class? Had he had an accident? Had he-?

He had reached the door to Francis' classroom. No more time to wonder. Pushing open the door, he saw the woman he had met that morning seated behind a horseshoe shaped table. Francis was coloring a paper at a table on the other side of the room. He looked up at Arthur, smiled, and went back to work, clearly at ease. That was a far cry from how he had left him several hours earlier which made Arthur feel much better.

"Mr. Kirkland," the teacher greeted kindly. "Thank you for meeting with me." He walked over and sat across from her. "There is nothing to worry about. I just like to meet with all my parents so they can know how their student is doing and I know your situation is a little special." The older blond took a deep breath, listening. "First of all, Francis is an incredibly sweet boy and many students have already gravitated towards him so he has several friends. He also tries very hard but I think he may need some help with his writing." She started to pull out a few papers while saying, "He can understand quite a lot and his speaking and reading are phenomenal which is why I am so concerned with his writing."

She showed him the papers which seemed to be Francis' work for the day.

Taking them, Arthur looked through them closely and noticed the problem quickly.

"Ah, I see the confusion." He ran his finger under a string of seemingly random letters. "For this question, Francis answered, 'My favorite thing to do at home is draw pictures.'"

The teacher stared at him, completely lost.

"How did you figure that out?"

Arthur handed the papers back.

"Francis was tutored in many aspects of this world, including languages. However, he was never taught to complete his work in French or even English. Instead, he was taught to do so in Latin which is what he did here as well." He sighed. "I will talk to him about this and explain why he can no longer use Latin to do his work."

She smiled.

"Thank you."

They both stood up and Arthur collected Francis before leaving.

 


	14. Chapter 14

After sitting Francis down at his desk, Arthur had explained to him why he couldn’t do his work the way he had been. He told him he had been doing it right but his new teacher couldn’t read it like they could so he had to write in French instead. Francis had nodded and asked if he would help him with his homework so he could be sure he was doing it the right way. He agreed and it was finished quickly.

Now Arthur was looking at the many drawings Francis had made and tacked up around the room while the boy made even more at his desk. There seemed to be a common theme in the pictures.

Turning to him, Arthur asked, _“Francis, do you want a dress?”_

The boy jumped and looked at him. He started to fidget, hands twisting nervously.

_“Th-They just look so pretty on the girls,”_ he tried to explain. _“And I know boy aren’t supposed to wear them but I just keep dreaming about them.”_ He put his head in his hands, his shoulders starting to shake. _“I-I’m s-sorry,”_ he forced out between tears. _“I’ll th-throw them a-away. I-It was just th-the only way t-to get it out of m-my head.”_

Arthur knelt beside him and gently held him.

_“Francis, if you want a dress, I will get you a dress. I didn’t realize you wanted one. You should have told me.”_

The boy’s head snapped up to look at him, tears still running down his face.

_“You d-don’t think it’s w-weird?”_

He shook his head.

_“I have seen your father in a dress too many times to think that.” He stood up and held his hand out. “Come on. Let’s go get your dress.”_

Francis stared at his hand for a few moments, not believing him, before reaching out and taking it.

* * *

It was decided that Arthur was going to making Francis any dress he wanted. They had browsed through a store but not decided on any of the dresses on offer. He told Francis that he hadn’t liked the selection at the store but he honestly wasn’t a fan of the way the other parents were watching them as they looked. He didn’t care that they were small minded or confused but when one large, heavy set man started stalking in their direction he knew it was time to go. Putting himself between Francis and the man, he subtly led them out while bemoaning the humble choices. He made sure to keep both of them and the man in view of every camera they passed.

When they were in the car, Arthur instructed Jeffrey to drive them to a fabric store. Francis asked why they weren’t going to another clothing store so Arthur explained that this was his first dress. It had to be special and a dress from the store wouldn’t be as special as one Francis had designed himself.

The boy lit up and he started imagining what his dress would look like. He continued to do so as they reached the store and walked around it. It took a couple hours to finally decide on the fabrics, buttons, and other necessary notions but Arthur was patient and encouraging which calmed him. Not once did he rush him, roll his eyes when he put a bolt of fabric back only to pick it up again later, or even check his watch. He just let the boy explore and experiment, carrying anything he chose.

They ended up buying some lavender fabric, a matching zipper, and some other small notions. They didn’t buy a pattern though because Arthur was going to make what Francis designed.

He continued to think while Jeffrey drove them home and while Arthur made them dinner. Using his colored pencils and paper, he made some sketches but none of them looked quite right. It had to be perfect!

Sitting back in his chair, he tried to think. He tapped a colored pencil against his chin. Suddenly the perfect idea popped into his head and he hurried to draw it before he lost it. Arthur called him down for dinner as soon as he finished.

He put his pencil down and smiled at his drawing. Grabbing it, he ran downstairs.

Arthur was waiting for him in the dining room. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he held up the paper. His whole body was buzzing, he hoped Arthur liked it and would make it.

_“Is this what you want?”_ He nodded quickly. _“All right then. I think it looks good.”_

Francis could hardly believe his ears.

* * *

Arthur was hunched over his stubborn old sewing machine when his phone rang. He answered it quickly, not wanting to possibly wake Francis.

“Hello?” he whispered.

“Dad!” a panicked voice reached his ears.

“Matthew? What’s wrong?”

He was instantly on guard when he heard the frantic tone in the younger’s voice.

“I think something has happened to Papa! He won’t answer my messages or my calls! And when I went to his house, it was deserted! But there was still food and dishes everywhere!” He paused to suck in a gasping breath. “You know Papa would never leave his house like that! I’m worried someone hurt him or took him away!”

The British man didn’t have to be able to see the other’s face to know that there were tears pouring down his face.

“Matthew, have you talked to your brother about this?”

“I’m starting to believe that he has a point,” another voice said.

“Ah, good to hear from you, Alfred.”

“Heya, Pops,” the American replied in a dejected voice.

That was a huge red flag. Alfred never referred to him as a father figure unless he was truly worried or in need of emotional support. He would have to give them a little bit of information or they would both break down completely, and he couldn’t let them both fall for they were each other’s rocks. If they sank they wouldn’t resurface until Francis was back which did not seem likely to happen anytime soon.

“Boys,” he began, stern but not unkind. “Francis is fine. I talked to him a few hours ago, face to face. He is safe, I promise. Now, it is late here and I can’t say anything else but just know that he is fine.”

He did not reveal any more than that but he did manage to soothe them and convince them to clean Francis’ house.


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur had finished Francis' dress but he was unable to sleep so he trudged down to the basement. He entered through an old door and quickly locked it behind him. All around him were tall bookshelves filled with different items. Some held various items in jars while others held books so ancient and fragile that anyone else would worry about even breathing on them for that might cause them to fall apart. But Arthur knew that the books were more than sturdy as they were held together with magic in their bindings.

The books were the reason he had come here in the first place so he headed in their direction. If his answer was here, he had no idea where it could be hiding so he pulled the first book off the shelf and sat down in a chair to look through it. Nothing particularly helpful leapt out at him so he placed the book on the floor by his chair and retrieved three more. Two were set on a side table while he perused the third.

* * *

When Arthur woke up he was surrounded by books. Several were still piled on the side table next to him and one was open on his lap. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to wake up a little more. He lifted the book from his lap and laid it on top of the stack next to him. A quick look at the bookshelves told him that even though he had a dozen books on the floor by his feet, he still had hundreds of books he had yet to touch.

With a sigh, he stood up. There was no more he could do at this time. Later, when Francis was asleep once more, he could continue his research. Now he needed to make a call.

* * *

The last touches were just being placed when he heard the front door open. He walked downstairs to find Francis with his assistant.

"Thank you, Miss Archer." The young woman nodded politely.  _"Come with me, Francis. I have to show you something."_

The boy hugged the woman quickly before hurrying to Arthur's side. Together they walked to Francis' room. Arthur opened the door and the boy gasped. Gone were the gray sheets on his bed. Instead there were pretty blue ones under several colorful pillows. The gray curtains had also been replaced with cream ones which let quite a bit more calming light into the room. The desk and nightstand now held matching blue lamps with cream lightshades. Next to the desk was a comfy chair in the same light blue as the rest of the room.

 _"It's beautiful, Mr. Arthur!"_  Francis cried and hugged him tightly.

A small, fond smile appeared on Arthur's face as he gently pet his hair.

 _"I'm glad you like it, dove,"_  he whispered.  _"The room didn't look much like you before so I wanted to fix that._ " He looked at his watch.  _"I have to talk to Miss Archer for a bit but I bought you some more books so you can read one while I talk to her."_

Francis nodded and picked up a book from the small pile on his desk before slipping into his new chair to read. The man left him to it and went to rejoin his assistant.

"That was kind of you, Mr. Kirkland," she said as soon as he was in the room with her again. "What inspired you to do it?"

Arthur let out a long sigh.

"I realized that I do not know what caused Francis to change so I began to research possible cures for him. And it hit me that he could be stuck like this for many more months or years and if he is going to be in this form for that long, he should at least be comfortable." His assistant began to say something but Arthur asked, "What did you need to discuss with me, Rachel?"

She seemed a little frustrated at being cut off but still answered.

"I wanted to remind you that next week you have a meeting with Mr. Beilschmidt and Mr. Gauck. Mr. Cameron and I will be in attendance with you."

The man groaned.

"I had forgotten about that. Can you cancel for me? Or go without me? I cannot leave Francis alone."

Rachel shook her head.

"Mr. Cameron said today that you must go."

"Doesn't he understand that I can't? I have to stay with Francis so nothing happens to him."

"He said that he will send men to protect him."

"He needs more protection than a human man can give! He can only be protected by a nation so I can't leave him!"

"We will figure something out but for now, leave that night marked on your calendar." She took a deep breath. "I also need to tell you that we have discovered that Mr. Beilschmidt has been searching for Francis."

Arthur froze.

"What? Why?"

"Well before Francis disappeared, the two of them had a romantic alliance so surely it is natural that he would be worried about him vanishing."

The English nation scoffed.

"Their alliance is a sham. Francis just likes powerful nations and Ludwig only likes him because he is an easy lay."

His assistant frowned at him.

"Remember that the man you are talking about is currently an innocent child living in your home. Take care when addressing him or you will hurt him."

Taking her words to heart, Arthur felt slightly ashamed of himself.

"You are right. I am just a little frustrated by all of this. I do not trust Ludwig when Francis is in such a vulnerable state so I do not want him anywhere near him. It makes me a little nervous that he is looking for him and now I really don't want to leave Francis with humans for protection."

"We will figure it out, Mr. Kirkland. Francis will be safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is just a little jealous of a certain relationship but he will be fine because he has Francis in his care. And he doesn't really mean what he said about Francis.
> 
> Before you say anything, I know that Gauck is no longer the President of Germany but neither is Hollande for France so just remember this is story takes place a few years ago.
> 
> Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English


	16. Chapter 16

Francis strolled up the path to the school with a bright, confident smile on his face. He was wearing the dress that Arthur had made for him and was buzzing with excitement. It fell all the way to his shoes with a bow around the waist to taper it. The shoulders were puffed which allowed him plenty of motion while the bodice was decorated with small, embroidered flowers that had been expertly made.

His grin started to slip off his face as he neared his classroom. All around him students whispered, pointed, and laughed. Suddenly he wished he had not chosen to wear the dress. He hung his head as he entered the room. Several gasps rang out around him. He tensed and waited for the unpleasant comments that were sure to continue. Instead, all of the girls crowded around him and started cooing over him, babbling about his new dress.

_“Where did you get it?”_

_“It’s so pretty!”_

_“I want one!”_

His head snapped up in surprise.

 _“M-Mr. Arthur made it for me,”_ he stuttered out.

 _“Who’s that?”_ one of them asked.

_“My…dad…”_

The teacher shooed the students away so they could put up their bags. She complimented him on his dress before she walked away.

* * *

After the success of his first dress, Francis continued to wear dresses regularly. He drew dozens of designs and gave them to Arthur. Arthur in turn created each design, no matter how intricate or complex. The pair visited the fabric store every Wednesday to pick out new fabrics and notions.

The girls at the school would eagerly wait for each new outfit and a few begged him to ask Arthur to make them their own dresses. Due to these requests, parents were starting to learn about the boy in class who was wearing dresses. Some of the parents were supportive but not all. A few even called Miss Gray to complain. She kindly defended Francis to every parent, reminding them that the fashion choices of another child was not something they could control and did not affect their child’s ability to learn. The parents seemed to back off after that to her relief. With a sigh, she stood up after hanging up the phone and walked to the office. As she did, she saw a curious sight.

For the first time, Arthur was late. Francis sat on the school steps, head in his hand. While he waited, he mindlessly toyed with the hem of his light blue dress. The teacher stepped outside to check on him. She sat next to him, asking why he was still there. He replied that Arthur had not yet arrived. Trying to comfort him, she told him that he could either come inside to wait or walk home. He thought about that as the teacher went back inside. He decided that something had probably come up at Arthur’s work and he should take himself home. Standing up, he brushed himself off and started down the stairs. The walk home should be simple and quick.

* * *

Arthur ran around his office, throwing papers into disorganized piles as he tried to quickly finish his work. He should have left half an hour ago to pick up Francis. Deeming his work done, he dashed out the door to where Jeffrey was waiting for him with the car.

They sped to the school and Arthur’s heart rate doubled when Francis wasn’t waiting for him outside. He ran into the building but was told that the boy had departed. Starting to panic, he sprinted back to the car and instructed Jeffrey to drive along the path that Francis would have taken. The man did as he was told and Arthur kept his eyes peeled for the boy.

A disturbance in an alley caught his attention and he yelled for the car to stop. He cautiously stepped out of the car and approached the alley. Two men were in the alley, one pining someone to the alley wall. A tuft of soft, blond hair was visible along with a bit of blue and a pair of sturdy brown boots.

His heart stopped.

 _Francis._ These men had Francis. They had him trapped, head close to his to whisper something to him while a wandering hand was inching under his dress. The boy let out a whimper and tried to pull away. He wouldn’t stand for this.

“Let him go!”

The two men jumped and turned to face him.

“Go find your own!” one shouted back. “We got her first!”

His temper started to flare.

“That’s a boy!” he shot back with a snarl. “And more than that, he’s my son!”

The men looked back and forth between the two blonds.

“No way. He looks nothing like you!”

He took a threatening step forward.

“Remove your hands or I will remove them for you. Permanently.”

The men laughed.

“Try us, old man! You’re outnumbered!”

The man holding Francis grinned before leaning forward and biting the boy’s neck, causing him to let out a shrill cry.

Something in Arthur snapped.

 _“Close your eyes, Francis,”_ he called softly to the boy.

He did so.

Once his eyes were tightly shut, Arthur stalked forward. Moving swiftly, he attacked the men. He hurled the one holding Francis into the opposite wall, knocking him out. He immediately grabbed the second one before he could run and repeated the action.

After making sure they weren’t going to get up, Arthur threw his arms around Francis and held him tightly. He had been terrified that something was going to happen to the boy and he wouldn’t be able to help him.

 _“It’s over now, dove,”_ he whispered as the boy started to shake. _“We’re going home now.”_

He picked the boy up and carried him to the car. As he did, he murmured calming words to him. For some reason though, the boy continued to say, _“Not again.”_ Over and over until he fell asleep, safe in Arthur’s arms.


	17. Chapter 17

"Thank you so much for agreeing to help, boys," Arthur began as he led Alfred and Matthew into the living room. "Francis is in a delicate state right now and I can't leave him alone tonight. And both of you would protect him better than an army of humans would."

"Of course," Matthew replied politely. "We will do anything to protect Papa."

Beside him, Alfred nodded seriously.

"There are some things you need to know before you see Francis. First, he has been through quite a bit lately and is wary around new people." The two younger nations glanced at each other in confusion. _New people?_ They had both known Francis for centuries. "Second, Francis is currently in a most unusual condition so prepare yourselves."

"Alright."

Taking a deep breath, Arthur called for Francis. The group waited for a few minutes before a little boy entered the room. When he saw the two unfamiliar men, he nervously hid behind Arthur. Trying to put him at ease, the older blond gently placed an arm around the boy's shoulders. The other two tried not to show their incredible surprise on their faces.

_"Francis,"_  came Arthur's soft voice. _"These are two very good friends of your father,"_  he explained.  _"They are also the boys from that picture you looked at before. As you know, I have to go out tonight so they will be staying with you while I am out. They will not hurt you, I promise."_

Even though Arthur was attempting to soothe him, Francis' large, doe eyes still watched the other two warily. Alfred walked over to him and knelt down to be on his level.

_"Hi there, Francis,"_  he whispered with a kind smile on his face.  _"My name is Alfred."_  He turned and pointed to the last person in the room.  _"And that's my brother, Mattie. We're gonna play with you while Mr. Arthur is out. Is that okay?"_  Francis nodded his head slowly.  _"Great! Mr. Arthur says that you like to draw so why don't Mattie and I make you a cool fort to draw in?"_

_"O-Okay."_

Beaming at his small success, Alfred continued.  _"I'm glad you like that idea. If you want, we can play Knights and Princes after that. Mattie and I can be your loyal knights and do whatever you say. We could even make you a crown to wear."_

Francis took a step out from behind Arthur.

_"C-Could I be a princess instead?"_  he asked, voice full of uncertainty.

_"Of course you can. Why don't you go get into your best princess dress and Mattie and I will start building your fort?"_

Francis nodded happily and ran out of the room.

"How did you do that?" Matthew asked, taken aback. "I thought he would beg Dad to stay with him."

"Fifty states, Mattie," he explained with a wide grin. "This is not my first time around kids." He stood up and turned to Arthur. "So why is he a kid?"

The other let out a tired sigh.

"I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure that out so I can turn him back."

"Does he still remember everything? Is he still the representation of France?"

"As for his status as a nation, I have no information either way. There has not been any instance where he has expressed feeling tied to the country or felt pain from it." He cleared his throat. "His memory is odd. It seems like he doesn't have any memories past the beginning of the Common Era. However, he also seems to be knowledgeable of everything a modern child of his age would be." He paused, listening for any sound that would signal Francis was returning. Hearing none, he continued. "It is almost as if his mind and his memory have separate recollections. It is very odd and I am attempting to discover what caused this."

"Is that why he is able to speak and understand modern French as opposed to the Ancient French or Latin he would have been using at that time?" Matthew asked.

"Yes. It seems his mind is in control of language instead of his memory." He opened his mouth to continue but at that moment Francis came back into the room wearing one of the dresses Arthur had made him. Glancing at his watch, Arthur instead said,  _"Well I need to get going. Francis, have fun with Alfred and Matthew."_

He bent down to give Francis a hug. The boy hugged him back tightly before letting go.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Arthur finally returned. The first thing he did after entering was check on Francis. Even with the knowledge that Alfred and Matthew were with him, he couldn't help but worry. He was pleasantly surprised to find Francis asleep in his bed with a cardboard crown on top of his head. He had expected to find the boy still up and have to put him to bed himself. Returning to the living room, he again gave his thanks to the two men.

"No problem," Alfred replied with a wave of his hand. "Mattie and I had fun. Francis sure is different as a kid."

"Yes he is. That's not at all how he acted when I was a child."

No one spoke for a while.

"Dad," Matthew began cautiously. "You seem very attached to this Francis. Why do you feel so strongly that you need to protect him?"

"Right now he is incredibly vulnerable. He needs a nation to protect him so that nothing happens to him."

Matthew shook his head.

"I understand that part. I meant why do  _you_  need to be the one?"

The English turned his back to the pair, looking out the window wistfully.

"When we were young, Francis always took care of me. He raised me far more than my brothers did. He kept me from freezing or starving and didn't ask for anything in return. He freely shared his possession with me and protected me from serious harm. I never once let him know how grateful I was for that."

Matthew walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"And you believe that if you take care of him now, when he truly needs help, you'll finally be able to repay him for everything he's done for you."

It wasn't a question but Arthur still nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English


	18. Chapter 18

Since changing classrooms, Francis had started using more and more English. He had improved from randomly sprouted words to full sentences. He was currently able to have short conversations in English where he occasionally had to use French for words he did not know yet.

Arthur had been shocked when Francis walked up and asked, “Paper?” He was used to the common request, though not asked so shortly, and replied, “It is in my office. You can go get some,” in English without looking up. Until he noticed the boy was still next to him, he did not realize what language the boy had used. When he did, his head whipped up in surprise to stare at him. He didn’t speak for a few moments while he processed this new information. Finally his brain caught up and he responded again in French so the boy could understand what he said.

Now that his English was so much stronger, he had begun buying him books in English to further his improvement. His assistant, Alfred, and Matthew also sent books in both languages. The boy had dozens of books so Arthur built him a small, three level bookshelf to hold them all. It was then placed at the end of his bed so he could easily read either in his comfy, blue chair or on his bed.

The reading was paying off both at home and at school. Francis’ new teacher called once a week to update him on the boy’s progress and give him ideas on how to keep his improvement going.

Due to this, Arthur was not surprised when he saw a call from the school while he was at work. Answering, he joked, “You are calling early this week, Miss Gray.”

The woman that spoke was not the teacher.

“Is this Mr. Kirkland?” a serious voice asked quickly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“I am the school nurse. I need to talk to you about Francis.”

Arthur froze, clutching the phone to his ear.

“I-Is he alright?”

“I am afraid not. He was just brought to the clinic after he started screaming in his class. When I arrived he was having a seizure. I cleared the class out and waited with him until it passed. He is asleep now but I am worried it may happen again. I am going to call an ambulance when we hang up but I wanted to make you aware first.”

“No!” he yelled into the phone. “I will come get him, a hospital won’t be able to help him.” He took a few calming breaths before speaking once more. “Wrap him tightly in a blanket and hold him until I get there.”

The woman agreed and he hung up, running out of his office. His assistant had taken notice of what was happening and notified his driver. He thanked her as he passed and dove into the back of the car.

They sped to the school, Arthur dashing inside before the car had even stopped. The nurse was waiting for him, holding Francis in a blue blanket.

“Thank you for doing as I asked. I have to take him home now but I will explain once this has passed.”

He picked Francis up and carried him back to the car, quickly but carefully. Once they were both inside, Jeffrey took off. Arthur’s phone buzzed in his pocket so he pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

“Oh no.”

* * *

Francis was sleeping, Arthur sitting at his bedside. The boy looked so small and weak as he laid still. Using his time he called the nurse to make her aware of the situation.

“Thank you again for taking care of Francis. I am sorry I was not able to tell you about what was happening when I came in but I will now. Francis’ father has an incredibly rare condition. There are less than 300 current, confirmed cases in the world. Since there are so few cases, there is not a lot of research available. With so little information, doctors studying the condition are not sure if it is hereditary. After today, there is a strong argument that it could be.” He paused to check on Francis before continuing. “If he had been taken to the hospital, he could have died since there are so few doctors aware of this condition. He could have been misdiagnosed and mistreated. I am also affected by this condition so I know how to treat him. Francis’ father and I met as children due to sharing this condition.”

The nurse asked him a few questions which he answered politely. He also told her that Francis would not be returning for a few days.”

Just as the call ended, Francis started to stir. Instantly alert, he leaned forward and waited for him to wake. The boy’s blue eyes blinked open and focused on him.

_"Why do I hurt, Papa?”_

_“That is a question with a complicated answer. Do you still want to know?”_ He nodded and Arthur sighed. _“Alright. I am going to teach you something about yourself that you do not know. You are not the same as the other children in your class. You are not human like them but instead you are the representation of the nation of France. You have been alive for thousands of years. I am the representation of the nation England and have known you for over a thousand years. Alfred and Matthew also represent nations. They are like us.”_

_“If I am so old, why do you look older than I do?”_ the boy asked, trying to make sense of what he was just told.

_“Normally you look older but something happened to make you change into the child you are now.”_

He continued to inform the child about what he actually was and made him promise not to tell anyone else. He also showed him a picture of what he looked like usually.

_“So why do I hurt?”_

_“Since you represent France, if something happens in the country or to the people, you will feel it. If it is good, you get healthier but if something bad happens, you will get hurt instead. Today there was a rockslide and some people were hurt.”_

_“Some died,”_ the boy whispered, eyes on the bedsheets. _“I could feel it. It felt like pieces of my soul were being ripped away.”_

Arthur slowly took his hand.

_“Seven people died and you felt that. I know that it hurts but it hurt you even more since you have changed. It was much more painful than it would have. The stress on your smaller body is intense. When you are back to normal, it will not hurt nearly as much."_

Francis bit his lip.

_“Do you wish I wasn’t like this?”_

Instantly Arthur knew he had not been careful with his words.

_“Francis, I only wish you were your older self so you would not be in pain right now. I promise. I am truly enjoying having you here with me.”_ He gently hugged the boy and quietly sang to him until he fell asleep once more. “I will protect you,” he murmured into his hair. “No one will hurt you while I am around and I will care for you until you can do it on your own again.”

He gently laid him down before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English


	19. Chapter 19

Francis woke up in a panic and looked around the dark room, confused by his surroundings. Tears prickled his eyes as he slipped out of the bed and padded to Arthur's room. He knocked and waited, listening to any sound from inside. Hearing none, he knocked again and waited once more. A few minutes passed with no movement on the other side of the door so he pushed the door open, light pouring into the room from the hallway through the cracked door. The light fell across the man sleeping in the large bed causing him to stir.

"M-Mr. Arthur?" Francis called, voice shaking. "P-Papa?"

With a groan the man sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you alright, Francis?" he asked, still half asleep. Soft whimpers reached his ears and he fully opened his eyes to see the boy clutching the door with tears running down his face. His demeanor quickly changed. "Oh, dove," he whispered, tone softening and opening his arms. "Come here." The boy released the door and ran to the bed, quickly climbing onto the covers. Arthur pulled him into his lap and held him tightly as the boy cried into his shoulder. "What has upset you so, dove?"

"I-I had a n-nightmare..."

"Do you want to tell me about it? Would that help you feel better?"

"O-Okay…" He took a few deep breaths to regain control of his voice. "I-I was sleeping in Maman and Papa's house. Then I woke up and smelled smoke. The house was on fire so I ran to Maman and Papa's room. They were sleeping so I shook them until they woke up. Maman grabbed me and we all ran out of the house. But I wanted the teddy bear Papa had just gotten me so he went back in to get it." Francis choked on his words and took a few minutes to speak again. "He came back out with my bear but he was…he was on fire. Maman was upset and laid with him until they both…until they both…"

Tears ran down his face again and he didn't finish. Arthur rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.

"It was just a nightmare, dove. It's over now. Put it out of your mind."

The boy shook his head.

"No…it wasn't…"

Arthur tried to grasp what he meant. _'Not a dream…? Then what…?'_  He suddenly understood and held the boy tighter.  _'That nightmare was a memory. A memory of the night his parents died.'_  He swallowed dryly.  _'Such a horrible event. That must have been incredibly traumatic for someone so young.'_

He kept being blindsided by how much he didn't know about someone he had met centuries ago.

"Dove, why don't you sleep here for the rest of the night?"

Francis nodded.

"Yes please," he murmured.

Arthur carefully moved the boy off of his lap, laying him down and tucking him in tightly before laying down himself. Wiggling a little, the boy adjusted himself so he was resting against Arthur's side. He curled up to him, placing his head on Arthur's stomach, and closing his eyes.

* * *

Since the nightmare incident, Francis had stayed close to Arthur's side. Arthur did not mind, instead he was glad as he wanted to keep a close eye on the boy. The two spent several days no more than two rooms apart.

One night, over a week later, the two were in the basement room where Arthur studied and practiced his magic. They were both squeezed into the comfortable armchair next to the small table. Francis had fallen asleep some time ago, pressed against his side. He didn't blame the boy, reading for hours out of thick, complex books was not the most interesting activity.

Through hours of later night reading, he had searched half of the tomes he owned. Yawning, he turned yet another page. Peering down at it he paused and his eyes widened as all sleepiness was lost.

**_Tempore Mutationem_ **

_'Age reversal…could this be it? Could I have finally found the answer?'_  He closely read the page, translating slowly from Latin to English with his tired brain.  _'To reverse the clock on a person's age brew kohl and honey in donkey milk. Let sit for eighteen moonrises. At the dawn of the nineteenth day add three materials to the mixture and mix quickly until fully combined. The three materials added must be representative of the person wanting to be changed to prevent changing the wrong person. The affect will not wear off until the person is given another dose of the same potion.'_

Taking a deep breath, he felt relief at finding a possible solution. He just needed to figure out what three materials someone used to make the original potion and test them.

A small note at the bottom of the page caught his attention.

_'Only the person who laid the spell can remove it.'_

He closed the book and put it on the table.

_'I need to figure out who cursed Francis so I can get them to reverse it. But who could have created it? And why? And when…?' Dozens of thoughts whirled around his head until one new one crossed his mind. 'Is it possible that they meant to curse someone other than Francis?'_

He couldn't think of any reason to target the other nation but that didn't mean there wasn't one. Looking at the boy he silently vowed to figure out all the answers to his questions and return the boy to his normal, adult self. No matter how long it took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
> 
> No Italics- speaking in English


	20. Chapter 20

Ever since the alley incident, Francis had waited inside the office for Arthur to pick him up. Today was no different as Jeffrey parked so the man could walk into the building. Seeing him coming, Francis jumped up and ran to meet him halfway. The older blond stopped and smiled fondly at him, taking his hand when he was close enough. Together they walked back to the car.

As they drove, Francis told both men about his day and what he had learned. They both listened patiently as they had every day for the last few weeks.

“Francis,” Arthur began as the boy started to wind down. “Your teacher told me how well you did on your last test so would you like to go out for a treat tonight?”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“Yes please!”

Arthur laughed quietly at his enthusiasm. “Alright. We will go after you finish your homework.” The car stopped and Arthur turned to get out, still smiling. “I will help you if-” His voice trailed off and Francis looked at him curiously; the smile on his face had disappeared. “Francis,” he started again, tone sharp. “Stay here.”

He slipped out of the car and Jeffrey locked it behind him, staying with the boy. Cautiously Arthur approached the house. His front door had been bashed in and was hanging off its hinges. He stepped inside and silently moved toward the small table just inside the hall. The drawer in it was pulled open and a pistol withdrawn.

He continued further into the old home, years of stealth training aiding him. It was eerily quiet around him as he maneuvered through the house and around broken furniture. Every room on the ground floor seemed to have been vandalized but no one was found. He retreated to the car and called his boss once he was sitting next to Francis again.

* * *

Police officers picked their way around, looking for any clues as to who had broken in. Cameron stood next to Arthur in the entryway, frown deeply etched into his face.

“This is not acceptable, Kirkland. You assured me you had this under control but this is the third incident since you became guardian of France. It is quite clear to me that France is _not_ safe here.” Arthur’s head shot up to stare, open mouthed, at his boss. “I have already alerted Hollande that France will be on the next train.”

“You can’t do that!” Arthur shouted. “Francis is not safe without another nation to protect him and he must be kept a secret! You can’t take him away!”

“Do not raise your voice to me, Kirkland. Look around you. France is clearly not safe here.” The other opened his mouth to continue arguing but Cameron did not let him speak. “It has been decided already. Inform the boy and pack his belongings. We are leaving in half an hour.”

Biting back the words he wanted to hurl at his boss, Arthur stomped away to find Francis.

The boy was sitting on his bed with his assistant while Jeffrey stood guard outside his door. He quickly explained the situation to the two and both were upset. He also asked his assistant if she would accompany Francis back to France.

She agreed swiftly before excusing herself.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur pushed the door open and walked over to Francis. The boy was had his head hanging and was staring blankly at his hands.

“I’m sorry, Francis. I don’t believe we will be able to go out tonight.” The boy shrugged. “Due to the circumstances, my boss thinks you would be safer in France.”

The boy peered up at him.

“So we are going back to France?”

Arthur shook his head sadly.

“No. I cannot go with you. Miss Archer is going to take you there and help you get settled before coming home.”

Starting to understand, Francis’ eyes filled with tears.

“You’re leaving me?”

The older nation’s heart broke at Francis’ crushed voice.

“I don’t want to but I do want you to be safe.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “We need to start packing now or we’ll be late.” Francis didn’t move as Arthur pulled out the suitcase he had come with and started filling it with his clothes. “I will bring the rest of your belongings when I come to visit you this weekend.” He picked up the bag. “Come now,” he called softly.

Francis followed him obediently, wiping his eyes.

Cameron and Miss Archer were waiting by the door. Arthur passed the bag to his assistant and led Francis to her side. He knelt down in front of the boy and stared into his eyes.

“We will not be apart forever,” he whispered. “I will call you right before you get on the train, as soon as you get off, and every single day. I promise you, dove.” The boy threw his arms around Arthur’s neck, sobbing into his shoulder. “There there,” he soothed. “This is not the end.” The boy slowly stopped crying and the man pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “Go with Miss Archer, dove.”

Sniffling, Francis walked with the young woman to the armored car waiting for them. A dozen men in uniforms and carrying weapons were already seated along the walls. Francis waved at Arthur from inside before the door closed.

* * *

Arthur watched the car until long after it was out of sight before dragging himself over to his armchair and dropping into it. His boss followed him and started saying how this was a good thing, he wouldn’t be so distracted, he would be able to get more work done, he wouldn’t be responsible for Francis anymore. He went on and on but Arthur tuned him out, not hearing anything over his frozen thoughts.

Eventually realizing the other wasn’t listening to him, Cameron began directing questions at him that he didn’t answer. Growing frustrated, he gave up and left. Arthur continued to sit, blank faced, for a few hours. Nothing seemed real to him. He felt like he was stuck in a nightmare.

After a long time, he managed to pull himself out of the chair and up to Francis’ room. He started packing all of the boy’s books into boxes. The lamps and pillows were also packed. The soft blue sheets were replaced with the old, gray ones as well as the curtains. The bookcase, chair, and boxes were all taken to the attic. All the pretty pictures were torn down and thrown away as he worked in a daze.

The room was slowly reset to its state when Francis had arrived. It had taken him nearly two hours and his stomach and started rumbling a while ago. Too upset to cook, he called for Jeffrey to drive him to a local restaurant.

The world seemed to pass by in a confusing mixture of colors that he was too tired to fully understand.

“Stop,” he called suddenly, voice weak.

Jeffrey instantly obeyed, pulling off the street. In front of them was a familiar black car.

Arthur slipped out of his car and approached it. That was definitely the car Francis had left in. Why was it here and not back at the garage? He walked around to the back, inspecting it closely, and froze. The back doors were open, displaying the gruesome sight inside.

The soldiers inside were in awkward positions, blood covering them and the interior of the car. His assistant was laying on the middle of the floor, eyes unseeing. The sight made him step back in shock, trying to make sense of what was in front of him. There was so much blood. It was leaking out of the truck and onto the ground. No one inside was alive or capable of saving.

Who had done this? Why?

A sudden thought popped into his head as his eyes roved over the scene.

Where was Francis?


End file.
